What He Became
by Brilliantflower
Summary: Time travel is possible when there is magic in the world. During a critical time in Camelot, Merlin-still hiding his magic while protecting his Prince-meets a woman from the future. Things are about to change. AU.
1. Chapter 1

What He Became

By: Brilliantflower

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Merlin or its characters. I wish I could travel the world with the cast, but that is never going to happen.

Chapter 1

The dry stone steps echoed down the hallway as Merlin ran towards the hidden depths of Camelot. He held the torch high enough to see a few feet ahead at a time. His throat felt constricted, his stomach lurched, his heart pumped, and his blood raced. Sweat slipped down the back of his neck and ran down his brow and into his eyes and mouth. Though his vision was blurred he barreled onward. His magic burned in the tips of his fingers. A word ached behind his lips. He bore down on it, suppressing it with extreme effort.

Merlin skidded to a halt at the end of the stairway, breathing hard. The hallway opened abruptly into a vast expanse of space, big enough to house a second Camelot. Stalactites and stalagmites jutted impressively in the gloom.

Kilgharrah lay as if asleep on the raised stone dais, his scales glimmering in the light of the torch. Merlin lowered his light. The stone ceiling far above allowed pale slits of light to shine down onto the scene below: a gaunt young man in servant's garb panting and staring hard at a gigantic dragon. The man's stance wide and his thin body quivered with barely contained…fear? Fury? Or some other, equally strong, emotion.

"I know you aren't sleeping," said the man.

The Dragon stirred and made a long show of waking, his great corded muscles shifting and his large red tongue unfurling in a feigned yawn. His yellow eyes slit halfway open and glinted lazily. "To what do I owe this…unexpected pleasure, Merlin?"

Merlin did not hesitate. "You know very well why I am here. You told me Morgana was evil, that she could not be trusted."

There was a long pause.

"Yes, and it has proven to be so." The Dragon looked positively superior, most certain of his position. As usual.

"But it was me," Merlin heard himself say, "Because I did not trust her, because I did not tell her who I was and did not help her, _that is why_ she has become this…"

"The witch was always evil," interjected Kilgharrah. "It was only a matter of time before she came to know it."

"That's not true!" Merlin's hands curled and his shoulders tensed. "You cannot tell me that if I had told her—"

"To have told her would have been to risk everything: your ability to help Arthur and his eventual rise to the throne. Albion's future was at stake! She could have told him who you were, and Uther would have killed you for it."

"Or she could have been an ally." Merlin heard himself say softly, hating himself more and more…

"We will never know what might have been, only what is and the choices that lie before us."

Merlin felt his guilt and shame turn to bile in his throat. "You knew! I know you did! You speak of destiny but you know that the choices of men _do_ _matter_ in the course of things—you just said it! You know that there is more than one possibly reality…you simply want to manipulate things to your liking!"

"Your destiny is your destiny, Merlin. It is the world and the people around you who either seek to aid you…or get in your way."

"I believe Morgana could have been either. I believe she could have helped. It was I who refused to help _her_ , I who poisoned her, I who abandoned her!"

" _Guilt_ is poisonous Merlin, do not let it fester in your heart. The witch is gone, and we must turn our efforts to other things."

"She is gone, but not dead. And her hatred grows: for Uther, for Arthur, and for Camelot. This will not end well. And you know it."

"No, it will not go easily. Lucky for you the witch is not your equal, nor ever will be." The Dragon seemed to smirk.

"That does not make her any less dangerous."

Kilgharrah smiled knowingly. "Trials make the man, young warlock. If she were not dangerous, Arthur would not need you so much. And you could not fulfill your destiny."

Merlin had nothing left to say. The futility of everything that had transpired, his powerlessness in the face of what Morgana had become as well as his feelings of betrayal towards Kilgharrah, burned in him. He felt his magic pushing full force behind his mouth, mixed with his emotions and aching to get out, and he couldn't bear being in the Dragon's presence any longer. He thought he might attempt to blast Kilgharrah into a thousand pieces.

He turned to leave, and left behind his torch. The dragon sat watching him silently until he was out of sight.

He climbed the stairs blindly, two at a time, skinning the top of one foot as he stumbled in the dark. Hot acrid tears left his eyes against his will. Behind him he heard Kilgharrah say "You are Albion's greatest hope."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Once Merlin was out of the catacombs and back in the upper hallways of the castle, he stopped to catch his breath. The moonlight made shadows through the slatted stone windows on the floor below. There was little sound other than a dog howling in the distance and the faint footsteps of night guardsmen.

Merlin took a deep shaky breath, wiped his eyes, and started walking silently towards his chambers. Upon opening the door to Gaius' study he heard the old man snoring softly, and when he turned he saw him asleep in the corner with an open book downturned on his belly. Under different circumstances Merlin might have smiled, or thought of a teasing remark to throw at Gaius the following morning like "I couldn't sleep with all that racket—whatever did you eat before bed?" Instead Merlin crept past him and firmly shut his chamber door. He sat on the edge of his bed, his heart racing again.

He was alone. And he couldn't bear it any longer. He decided not to stop himself. He uttered a spell.

It curled off his tongue before he knew what he was saying. Relief came with the utterance, as if he had shared his painful feelings with a trusted friend, and he watched as the empty air before him shivered and came alive with fragrant blue flower petals- spiraling without the aid of any wind. It was mesmerizing.

The petals swirled faster in the still air, until they became a torn blur of blue: an anguished spiral, mirroring the feelings in Merlin's chest: unbearable guilt, shame, regret, helplessness, sadness and anger. The emotions tore at each other, fighting for dominance.

Then the petals fell to the floor, pounded almost to dust in their mad spinning, and faded away.

Merlin slumped wearily, putting his face in his hands.

After a few long moments, he rose, legs unsteady and scraped foot throbbing, and made his way to the water basin. He dipped a clean washrag into the cool clear water, wrung it out, and took it with him to his bed. He lay down and placed the towel over his hot forehead. He took a few deep breaths.

What could he have done differently? It would plague him forever, he knew it. Things could have been different, if only he had not listened to Kilgharrah. He had let his fear get the better of him. All of the secrets, hiding, and sneaking…how could he not feel afraid when he was always hiding? His very actions crept into his psyche and became a part of his identity.

If he had told her, she could have turned him in. If he had comforted her, she could have betrayed him. But he hated himself for making a decision based on fear. He hated himself because he hadn't even tried. Beyond that, he had done something he swore he would never do: he caused deliberate harm to someone to stop them doing something he didn't actually know they would do. He had poisoned her!

Hatred for both himself and the Dragon churned inside of him, momentarily blocking out his guilt. He used to think of his non-human mentor as almost…divine. Kilgharrah, who had his own selfish motives after all! At the same time he hated how right the Dragon was: Merlin needed an enemy to test his skill. Though Merlin had known how to do magic from infancy, intuitively, he was still young and mostly untried. And Morgana was the perfect whet stone, honing Merlin to a fine edge.

What a terrible price.

Merlin seethed, but was too weary to get up and pace. And certainly in too much pain—with a raging headache—to do anything other than lie there and let a few more hot and angry tears leak out of his eyes.

He thought for a moment of Freya, with whom he had shared a part of himself long buried. Thinking of her soothed him, like most pleasant daydreams. It was an escape. He became someone else with her: someone naive, earnest, uncertain, and passionate. Her face and voice swam in his mind, telling him to hold fast. To not give up…

Eventually Merlin fell into a restless sleep filled with anxious dreams.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The next morning he reported to Arthur, only to find his Prince in a dark mood. The loss of Morgana, her betrayal, and the new knowledge of her true parentage had initially left Arthur stunned. Now he was fully primed and ready for action, pacing the floor in his riding clothes and gripping his sword belt in his right hand. It looked as if he were preparing to depart, but to where? Merlin felt both anxious and irritated at the sight.

"Good morning your Highness."

"Merlin, good." Arthur gave him a perfunctory nod. "My armor needs polishing and my sword needs sharpening. My horse needs shoeing, and we need supplies."

"Supplies? I thought…"

"My father is unwell, and there are disturbances among the townsfolk which the lower guards cannot tend to. The people must see their Prince doing something about this."

"Disturbances, my lord?"

"Yes, well it's a bit inexplicable…"

" _Magic_ , perhaps, my Lord?"

Merlin peered at Arthur and noticed for the first time how pale and wide eyed he looked, despite his determined tone.

"Yes, I suppose it must be. Some are saying they have been attacked by ghosts, some that their homes were set aflame. This cannot go unchecked."

"Arthur, don't you think…"

" _Your Highness_ , Merlin, and there is no time to waste!" Arthur's eyes burned with sudden fervor. "There is still a chance that if I can clear up this mess… I can show him that at least he has a son he can be proud of. Maybe that will rouse him from his…" Arthur gripped his mouth as if to stop the word.

Merlin lowered his eyes. Uther, who the day before was deadly hale, was now in a stupor of sorts, unable to feed, bathe, or dress himself. Unable to lead, unable to act as King. As much resentment as Arthur had for his father he still cared deeply for him. This could not be easy for the young Prince.

"I will get your armor and sword my lord. And shoe the horses. And get supplies."

"Yes, thank you Merlin." Arthur spun away and began to pace again.

Normally there would be a sarcastic remark from Arthur, often something like "You're unusually helpful today." Not today. It spoke volumes about the Prince's state of mind.

Merlin left in haste to do Arthur's bidding, and all the while he was wondering what these rumors in the lower town were about. Surely it was magic done by Morgana out of pain and spite as she fled the Kingdom. Surely it wasn't something new…as if they needed a separate enemy attack at this time.

That was the _last_ thing they needed right now.

Once Merlin completed his tasks he sought out Gaius, who was awake and bent over a tome at his work desk. "Merlin…did you know that wolfs bane can be used as an ingredient in a potion that will cure consumption?"

"Gaius." Merlin stared at his human mentor (who he was beginning to think of as his _one true_ mentor) from the doorway, looking both grim and gaunt.

Gaius' eyes narrowed as he peered at his young charge.

"You're not eating enough," he fussed. "I keep telling you you've got to eat or you'll be naught but bones, boy! Your cheeks are like saucers- good gods above! Come here and have some breakfast."

"No time. Arthur has requested I accompany him on a mission to dispel any magics disturbing the townsfolk."

Gaius' mouth tightened, and he stared hard at Merlin. "Very well. I suppose you're cut out for that. Just take some bread, apples, and the new cheese with you. Wrap it in that cloth, there."

"We already have food…"

"I'm sure it won't be enough. And anyway, you won't have time for a proper breakfast."

Gaius' expression was earnest. Merlin took the items, wrapped them, and made to leave.

"And Merlin!"

"Yes?"

"Be careful."

Merlin nodded and turned to go.

As he left he felt a sense of foreboding. Arthur was more likely than not to be reckless in his pain. Merlin had seen his Prince like this before: wild to prove his worthiness to his father, whose love had always been conditional. What might Arthur be leading them towards in his attempt to prove himself to his father? What might be waiting for them there?

Merlin was fairly confident in his magical abilities. Much practice hade honed his skill. What he was not so certain of was his continued ability to protect Arthur _while_ keeping it a secret. It became harder each day not to simply tell his friend who he really was. For that is what Arthur was becoming, despite his insistence on formalities such as _Your Highness_ …a friend.

Merlin had a recurring dream in which he was standing at the head of the long feast table, in front of the whole court of Camelot, wearing long shabby robes and clutching a tall staff. In the dream Arthur did not recognize him. "Who are you?" he demanded. And Merlin shouted "I am your servant! I am your friend!" And Arthur called for the Knights to surround him, and Merlin ran for his life. "I am your servant!" he cried as he ran. "I am your friend! I am Merlin!" He realized halfway through the dream that to all others his cries sounded like sinister spells, and that no one could understand him. He felt terribly alone.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Physicists often quote from T. H. Whit's epic novel The Once and Future King, where a society of ants declares, "Everything not forbidden is compulsory." In other words, if there isn't a basic principle of physics forbidding time travel, then time travel is necessarily a physical possiblity. (The reason for this is the uncertainty principle. Unless something is forbidden, quantum effects and fluctuations will eventually make it possible if we wait long enough. Thus, unless there is a law forbidding it, it will eventually occur.)

\- Michio Kaku

Their small party rode into the lower town. It consisted of: Merlin, Prince Arthur, and 6 of Arthur's best knights including Sir Elyan, Sir Gwaine, and Sir Leon.

Merlin tried to keep to the back, watching for any sign that his magic was needed. And, of course, he had to be _discreet_. His inner thighs chafed in the saddle. It had been a while since he had ridden a horse, and he had lost some weight since then. He _should_ eat more, as Gaius pressed him to. He was beginning to recognize that the more mental and emotional stress he experienced, the less he remembered food.

Gwaine, turning about on his steed, grimaced and pointed towards a burned hovel at the edge of the square "Look, Your Highness." From the center of the hovel a fire pit still burned with hot coals. "Demons, witches…" here he grinned, "or someone fell asleep while cooking dinner."

Arthur pursed his lips and looked stern. "Thank you Sir Gwaine. We need more information, which is certain."

Gwaine bowed in his saddle respectfully, swallowing his grin.

After Arthur and the Knights thoroughly questioned the townsfolk—many of whom looked scared and talking about ghosts and witches, but had no clearer descriptions than "fire seemed to come from nowhere" and "I thought I saw a man, but he had no legs"—it did seem as if rumors of the Witch Morgana had spread and this was simply a panic related to the fire. Many of the people seemed relieved that their Prince and his Knights were investigating the matter personally.

As usual, no one took note of the thin black-haired servant playing shadow to the Prince.

Merlin, who had been contemplating forcing down some bread from his haversack at the soonest opportunity, was distracted by a flash of blue light in the woods to the south of town. Nothing could make that color of light, he thought…other than _magic_.

It was so brief he doubted anyone else had seen. And if they had, someone else would tell them it was just their nerves.

Merlin had to come up with an excuse quickly if he wanted to investigate the matter further.

"Your Highness," he said, drawing his horse near to Arthur's, "I would like to volunteer to do one more sweep at the south of town. It is near the woods and this would be good cover for anyone doing mischief."

"Very good," said Arthur absentmindedly, waving him away. "Go make yourself useful. And don't say mischief, you sound like a girl."

 _As you wish,_ Merlin thought at he bowed, not even bothering with a retort. He was grateful Arthur's mood had improved enough for him to be irritated with his servant.

He turned his horse towards the border of the southern woods.

As he passed under the first leafy boughs he felt a hush descend around him.

He remembered from his time exploring this part of the woods that there would be a few small caves on rocky hillocks, surrounding a small but fast flowing stream. This stream was an outlet for a very large river, by way of which the townsfolk did much of their trading. Small boats that two men could carry would float down the stream, and men with poles and healthy tans would stop at each town to sell their wares. Then they would take the long journey by foot or rented cart back home.

The lower part of the small stream served most often as a bathing and washing spot for the villagers. Further upstream the ground became uneven, the rocks covered in slippery moss at the water's edge. This area used to be mountains, but now it was just small hills gradually sloping into great hills beyond the borders of the wood. The great hills turned into actual mountains, the passes of which marked the Southern borders of Camelot.

There was a beautiful and quiet place where the stream made little rivulets around some larger rocks, the joined together again. The murmur of water made a nice muffling sound that blocked out the animal sounds of the forest. Merlin came upon the caves, which circled this secluded spot. The townsfolk often called it Bandits Bluff, or else Faerie Hills. Either way, Merlin knew it would behoove him to be cautious. So he dismounted from his steed and set off on foot towards Bandits Bluff, uttering a quiet spell to silence his footsteps.

As he ascended he was struck by a magical resonance in the place: something, or someone, was here and emitting a _powerful_ energy.

It did not feel sinister…but neither was it known to him. He was used to magicians having their own distinct auras, and to certain places having a "feeling" as well. But this particular feeling he had never felt at Bandits Bluff, which he had frequented, and he had certainly never sensed it in any person of magical ability.

As he picked his way across the rocks a light breeze tickled the right side of his face. Ahead of him were three caves, the largest of which was the spot—without a doubt—from which the energy was resonating.

The cave was about the size of two horse carriages lined up, and the front was half sheltered by stacked stones, half by hanging moss.

"I mean you no harm." Merlin heard himself say.

But there was no answer.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

Again there was no reply, though he felt a tremor in the energy around the cave.

He made the decision at that time to enter. Carefully, slowly, he approached the cave. He felt no magical resistance.

He gently touched the hanging moss and swept it to the side. And he stepped through the mouth of the cave into total darkness.

It took her a long moment to register that she was not alone.

After riding for hours in the jeep over rocky terrain, her motion sickness had kicked in and she was ready to enjoy solid ground. She was also ready to be away from the very chatty group in the jeep. Not that she didn't _like_ her friends, but the topics of conversation today had been particularly boring: bills, jobs, and retirement.

She wanted to talk about: books, traveling, and hobbies. She was overruled.

There was a 20 minute stretch where the women talked about crown molding styles and the men about UFC. That was okay, but still not great.

She made an excuse to go to the bathroom. And as she hiked away from the group without any real plan, she spotted a small cave at the edge of a riverbank that looked…well, inviting was not the word. Compelling, maybe. Despite her fear of water snakes…snakes of any kind, really…and despite her certainty that one day she would die by black widow bite, or fall in a sinkhole and never make it out alive, she stepped forward.

She entered the cave, and, to her delight, there was a large flat stone she could sit on, a small nest of baby birds sheltered at the mouth of the cave by hanging moss, one or two nondescript insects, and absolutely no snakes. The sound of the river echoed softly around her.

She sat and wondered how long it would take her friends to realize she wasn't back yet. This was the last time she agreed to be a passenger of an off-road vehicle. Her stomach was still recovering. She opened her fanny pack and took out a bottle of herbal remedy in preparation for the return journey. She popped one tablet into her mouth and chewed. If she were lucky, it would kick in before she had to get back into the godforsaken jeep.

Suddenly she tensed, fake strawberry flavor in her mouth from the half chewed tablet, and felt certain someone was in the cave with her. Without a doubt.

She felt frozen in fear. She couldn't speak. What would she say: hello? Anyone there?

Underneath her fear she felt a terrible curiosity.

 _~*~  
_ Merlin stood stunned by what he saw. Once the darkness dropped away, he found himself in a cave with the opening in front of him. A woman sat inside. She had long curling blonde hair, greatly disheveled as if from high wind. Her garb was tight and black and very revealing, if what appeared to be _men's underclothes_ could be called revealing. Her shoes were an electric blue and were like nothing Merlin had ever seen. She wore a black rucksack and a smaller pouch slung low on her abdomen. She was chewing something and holding a medicinal bottle. What stunned Merlin most was the cave entrance behind her, through which full sunlight was streaming.

 _Does this cave have two sides?_ Merlin wondered. And though he knew this could only be magic, he felt ready to test it. He stepped forward.

The woman's eyes widened in what could have been fright, and she dropped the blue and white bottle, small pink tablets spilling to roll across the ground.

"Who…who are you?" she quavered. "What do you want?" She got up and made as if to bolt from the cave.

"Wait!" Merlin heard himself say, and he reached out his hand, turning up his palm. "I mean you no harm."

He could tell she did not believe him as she backed more quickly towards the mouth of the cave and reached sideways for a hand-sized rock. Apparently she thought it might make a good makeshift weapon if he decided to attack her.

"Stop. Don't come near me." Though she sounded frightened, her words rang out strong. She meant them, just as she would use the rock if it came to it.

Merlin had to admire her resolve. But she hadn't run yet.

Her eyes widened further as they came to rest behind Merlin's left shoulder. She froze. Merlin could hear the stream behind him, and also birdsong and moving water _ahead_ of him. As he was processing this, he imagined how it must look to her. He knew she could see what was behind him now, and wondered how she would take it.

"I came here," he said softly, not daring to move an inch lest he provoke her or frighten her away, "to see what was in this cave. And now it appears it has two sides.

There was a long and very tense silence.

"I don't know what you're saying," she finally stuttered, panic rising in her voice, "but I'm _leaving_."

What could he say? _I need your help? Don't go?_

Surely she thought he was a madman, and dangerous, and wouldn't respond to anything he said positively. So he stood looking at her, his outstretched hand frozen in place.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Who in the world am I?

Ah, that's the great puzzle."

-Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

This man was insane. He must be. What was he wearing? Strange. And he was so gaunt, and a bit dirty. Why was he out here in the woods, and in a cave, alone? Had he escaped from his caregiver or a mental institution? His eyes were so full of emotion she almost didn't dare to look away lest she provoke him; his gaze might change in an instant from benign to aggressive.

She was afraid if she ran she would provoke him to chase her, and that was the only thing keeping her there…standing in the mouth of the cave, holding a pitifully small rock and praying to God (she was from the Bible Belt and the daughter of a minister, so it came to her in moments of terror to call upon her deity). _Please, God, let him stay calm. Please don't let him attack me._

She saw he was tall and had strong arms and very long legs. It would be easy for him to run her down.

 _Stupid, I am so stupid. Please, God, save me._

The silence stretched on, and the chirping of the baby birds persisted as if contradicting her fear and the danger of the situation.

"My name is Merlin." He said slowly, without moving anything other than his mouth.

She took a shaky breath, thinking of a way to respond. _I must respond calmly, and act as if nothing is wrong_. "Hello, Merlin."

Best to remind him she was human by remaining calm, looking him in the eye, and calling upon his sympathy if need be. Best not to ask why or what questions; sometimes those did not go over well with people with psychosis.

"How are you doing today?" she asked, acutely aware of the sunshine on her back, the escape route behind her.

 _Okay, she thinks I'm mad. I'll talk calmly and slowly, so as to assure her I am sane._

"I am doing well, thank you. Though I'm a bit confused."

 _Of course you are_ , she thought. _You're a grown man hiding in a cave wearing a costume._

"I'm so sorry to hear that," she said, looking him in the eye and trying to smile sympathetically. _Don't overdo it_ , she told herself, _he'll know if you're faking._

"Thank you." Merlin thought he would venture further, "what is on the other side of this cave? Out there?" He nodded behind her.

"Oh," she said "the river, the road, and a very lovely day." She thought that sounded stupid, and hoped he bought it. She tried on a small smile, but felt her eyebrows must have betrayed her mouth.

"Where does the road go?"

The minute Merlin asked this, he knew he had made a poor case for his own sanity.

"It goes lots of places," she said lightly, feeling her hand sweat around the gritty rock and the sun grow hotter on the back of her neck.

Merlin had grown tired of being careful, though at the same time he did not want to frighten her. So he said, "I'm going to go back where I came from now. If I don't see you again, I wish you well."

For a moment he blotted out what was clearly sunlight on the other side of the cave, and then he backed away and was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Sarah backed out of the cave, ran about 15 feet away, and turned and stared hard at the cave entrance. There was no sign of that man anymore. She ran a few yards away and to the left, until she could see the back of it. He wasn't there either.

She felt her heart stop in her chest. There was no other opening. Nowhere he could have gone…

She had to make a decision. She could decide this was a hallucination and call a psychiatrist. She could go back to her friends and try to forget it. Or she could go back into the cave, and investigate further.

The first and second option seemed most sensible. After all, if he was a hallucination she would have more of those, and then know whether she needed clinical attention or not.

She could try to forget it, but she had a growing feeling that this would haunt her for life. Was he real? Who was he?

And somewhere in the pit of her stomach she knew he wasn't dangerous. Crazy, maybe, but not dangerous. Even as her logic told her that listening to the pit of her stomach wasn't always wise, she felt her curiosity getting the better of her.

She walked back towards the mouth of the cave, prepared to run at any moment. She still gripped the rock, never having let it go.

As she neared the mouth of the cave she heard the baby birds. As she peered inside she saw nothing and no one other than the insects…crawling towards an opening on the other side. Where bright sunlight, closer to the brightness of noon sunlight than here (where it was 4 PM), shone through another entrance to spill onto the cave floor. Shadows crisscrossed weirdly from both sides.

Sarah stepped forward until she could be sure there were no places for the man to have hidden himself inside the cave…from which he could still choose to jump out and attack her.

She stood in a piece of light on the floor, feeling its very real warmth. Then she edged slowly forward, brushing aside moss, until she was out the other side and gazing at rocky ground covered in moss, and a fast-flowing stream.

She stood stunned for a moment, very nearly ready to faint for the first time in her life. It felt like a choice: to faint or not to faint.

She stepped backward into the cave. It was still there. She stepped out again. And back in. And out again. Until she was sure that this was either real or she had had a psychotic break. Either way, she didn't really want to faint. She felt mildly irritated and wanted answers.

"Hello?" she said over the sound of rushing water.

She heard a male voice say "over here."

She turned and saw the man, maybe 20 feet away, sitting on a larger stone with his hands folded in his lap. He did not stand or try to advance. She walked slowly, as if in a dream, towards another large stone about 10 feet from him, and sat down.

"You're a nice person, aren't you?" She heard herself asking, somewhat stupidly.

"Most of the time," he said, and smiled. She thought it was a rather nice smile, and that thought disturbed her. Especially paired with his vague answer.

He stopped and frowned. "I was trying to be honest," he said. "I don't think anyone is nice all the time. People can be mostly good and not always nice."

She nodded.

As they sat she began to notice something different about this place. This was definitely not like the woods near home, the oaks and pines and maples of the American South. The air had a wet chill and it reminded her of a spring semester in college she spent in England. The moss on the rocks was so green that it didn't look real. And there was something in the air…something she could almost taste. A tingling buzzing real-ness... It seemed to get under her skin and enter her through each breath until she felt as if she could do _anything_.

 _I'm dissociating_ , she thought calmly. _I'm stepping outside of myself and watching the scene. It's a coping mechanism._

The whole time she was thinking the man just sat and watched her, though casually, as if to say: _I'm not going to say anything unless you speak first._

And the silence stretched further, until they were simply looking around at the scenery in each other's presence.

"What is your name?" asked Sarah.

"Merlin," said the man, looking her straight in the eyes. His eyes were blue and his hair was curly and black. He looked as if he didn't eat or sleep well, and suddenly it reminded her of her Uncle who spent so much time reading and writing that he forgot about his bodily needs. He used to say intelligent people didn't have time for mundane things like eating, sleeping, and choosing their outfits carefully. _But_..she told herself, looking hard at Merlin… _he doesn't act like he's just a intellectual, not quite_. He also had an air of calm assuredness, as if he knew he could take care of himself. And though his skin was pale, the skin of his hands, neck and face was a bit darker, possibly from sun exposure. His hands looked calloused and a bit big for his body, and she wondered if he did hard labor.

His accent was definitely not American; she had dimly registered that earlier. It sounded sort of British, from what she could remember of BBC characters' speech, but even _heavier_ than that.

"My name is Sarah," she heard herself say, and then had a mild heart attack. _Why did I tell him my real name?_

At this point, however, she was almost glad she had made the choice. It gave her permission to move forward on the path she was currently on. _Too late to turn back, in a way. He knows my name, and I've acknowledged to myself that as far as I know this could be real._

"Lovely to meet you, Sarah." He looked very serious and very curious.

She nodded and tried to smile.

"The cave," he said, pointing, "is a strange place, don't you think?"

She was growing tired of this exchange. Now that she had chosen to fully acknowledge the situation and, for lack of a better phrase, _go with it_ —she wanted to ask things outright, not beat around the bush.

Her words came out in a rush. "It is. It has two sides. No cave has two sides…at least not when each side is in a different place."

"Yes," he said, nodding, "I agree. It is out of the ordinary." He paused and then continued "so, what are we to make of it?"

"I'm not sure," she said.

"Well," he said, "It looks as if your side and mine are in two different places. Until we know what to make of it, best not to tell anyone."

 _Best not to tell anyone?_ She thought, _why on earth is he worried about that?_

She wanted to call some sort of scientific society…or the police. They could investigate and then she would know if this was a new discovery of some kind…or all in her head.

"Shouldn't we?" she ventured.

"I don't think so," he said with more certainty. "At least not the people here, where I am from. They don't respond well to things that are out of the ordinary…" here he paused meaningfully, as if choosing his next words very carefully. "They would call it Sorcery and do whatever necessary to put an _end_ to it."

 _What a word! Sorcery._ She wondered at his sincerity; she could tell he meant every word. He was indeed concerned about the reaction of the people…in this place.

"The people where I am from," she said, "do not believe in Sorcery. Well, most of them. But what they do believe in is science."

"Those things are not so far apart in my experience," Merlin interjected.

She stared at him. Part of her still couldn't believe he was real. He was saying so many things that she had thought before. She had many dreams, dreams in which she could do magic. Dreams that, even now, made her blush with embarrassment. She had dismissed them as ridiculous, even when some of them had felt so real that she had woken up believing them to be so. In these moments between true sleep and true waking she had thought to herself: _it's not so impossible._

But now she was afraid. The strange buzzing in the air made her think it could be real. That there were things beyond what she had been told. And underneath the fear…something that worried her even more: an excitement and a desire to find out more.

"What is this place like? What do the buildings look like? What do the people do?" She asked in one rush of breath, before she could stop herself.

"This place," he said without hesitation "is Albion. The kingdom is Camelot. The buildings are either made of wood, thatch, or stone. The greatest, like the castle at Camelot, are made of stone so they will last. The people do many things…from courtiers, to merchants, to farmers who tend the livestock and the fields."

Her heart stopped. _Camelot._

Her breath caught in her throat and her vision blurred. _Camelot…I know this._

Her mind flashed to stories: _The Once and Future King. The Mists of Avalon._ Stories she had read…not that long ago.

"If this is Camelot," she said "prove it. Where is King Arthur?" She felt a derisive laugh bubble out of her throat without her consent. She could not help herself, it was too surreal. She felt the laughter burning away some of the tension, but stopped it to ask another question. "If this is Camelot, where is…" but she froze. She _knew_ his name, he had told her. When he had told her first, she had thought of a bird- _merlin_. Now she did not.

 _Merlin. The wizard Merlin._ But this was no old, toothless, and bearded man wearing shabby robes and hobbling…he carried no twisted staff, there was no talking owl…this man was young, dark, tall and scrawny. He had a kind smile and all of his teeth.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

One day you'll see her and you'll know what I mean  
Take her or leave her she will still be the same  
She'll not try to buy you with her time  
But nothing's the same, as you will see when she's gone

It's foreign on this side  
And I'll not leave my home again  
There's no place to hide  
And I'm nothing but scared

You dream of colors that have never been made  
You imagine songs that have never been played  
(They will try)  
They will try to buy you and your mind  
Only the curious have something to find

It's foreign on this side  
And the truth is a bitter friend  
But reasons few have I to go back again

Your first dawn blinded you, left you cursing the day  
Entrance is crucial and it's not without pain  
(There's no path) There's no path to follow, once you're here  
You'll climb up the slide and then you'll slide down the stairs

It's foreign on this side  
But it feels like I'm home again  
There's no place to hide  
But I don't think I'm scared  
(There's no place to hide)  
(There's no place to hide) But I don't think I'm scared  
(There's no place to hide) But I don't think I'm scared

-Nickel Creek, "This Side"

 _King Arthur._

He knew immediately this was magic. She could not be here otherwise, and she could not be here by chance. But even as he recognized this, he could not stop his heart from pounding.

 _She is from the future_ , something in him said excitedly. He felt so stunned and amazed he almost exclaimed aloud—in his head he crowed! _Wild, spectacular…and problematic._ _I must tread carefully_ , he thought, _and accept this as the gift that it is._

Merlin had learned that unless he respected magics greater than himself they would blast through his life—either he worked with them, or he got in their way and payed the price. Even a wizard of his caliber—especially a wizard of his caliber—knew when to respect the Great Mysteries. They were larger than any being, with a power and momentum that had begun growing long before the time of man. And here was the result of the momentum, this woman sitting on a rock not ten feet away from him. His thoughts rushed; he burned to unravel the meaning of it.

He decided to resume their conversation, to see what unfolded.

"There isn't a King Arthur…at least, not yet." Here he paused for dramatic effect, waiting for her to press him further. _This is best_ , he thought, _to let her carry as much of the conversation as myself. Draw it out. Find out what she is here for._

"What do you mean?" she felt breathless with the intensity, almost faint from it.

Her stomach growled loudly.

Merlin smiled again, this time not showing his teeth. "Would you care for something to eat?"

"I would," she said, "but…"

"It's quit safe. I will show you. I will eat some myself." He pulled fruit, what appeared to be a large hard hunk of cheese, and what looked like a crusted loaf of bread from his haversack. He broke off several pieces of the bread and cheese and ate deliberately, but without any outward signs of pleasure in it.

Then he stood slowly, walked even more slowly, and—rather perceptively—deposited the food on a cloth halfway to her sitting spot. If he had come any closer, she would have bolted despite herself. He then walked back to his rock and sat down. _Washes?_ She thought hazily.

"There is water in the stream if you are thirsty. No one washes here, so it is safe to drink."

She got up shakily, feeling her head swim as tiny stars popped in front of her eyes. She took deep breaths and willed herself to move towards the food, pick it up, and carry it carefully back to her rock. She stumbled slightly on the uneven and rocky terrain, but righted herself right away. She did not drop any food. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until she smelled the bread and cheese…

The whole time Merlin sat and watched her, never twitching a muscle.

She took a piece of the bread from the loaf, and marveled at how dense and textured it was. She could see the individual seeds and flecks of grain, much like whole grain bread back home but three times heavier in her hand. She put it in her mouth and chewed slowly.

 _It was fantastic!_

The flavor was so complex; she almost didn't believe it was bread. It also took longer to chew.

She took a piece of cheese and tasted it. It was tangy and delicious. The apple was small and slightly shriveled, but was so sweet she could have sworn it was candy.

Her mouth was so full of saliva that at first she didn't need water, but after a few bites she got some bread stuck in her throat. Glancing at Merlin she put the food down, and made her way to the stream for a drink.

Her hands froze as they broke the surface of the icy stream; it was bracing.

The water was so clear she could see the minnows and reeds floating at the bottom. As she brought her cupped hands to her lips she started: it tasted perfect, like no water she had ever tasted.

After she sat back down she had a few more bites, then a few more mouthfuls of water. Her head was beginning to clear.

Merlin tried not to stare. Now that he thought she might not run, he was as transfixed by her mannerisms and clothing as he had been earlier by her speech.

He could see almost every outline of her form through the tight black clothing she wore, which at first made him want to avert his eyes to spare her any shame. Then he realized that she felt none. Her clothing did not seem to concern her—it must be something that in her…world…was completely normal for women to wear.

She moved differently too. Women here either moved with a floating grace if they were noble, or with a girlish and bouncing gait if they were common. Common women were accused of putting on airs if they moved too gracefully, and noble women were ridiculed if their movements were too common or at all masculine. This woman moved so strangely that he almost couldn't place it…but then he settled on: a mixture of the walk of a noble _man_ and the lope of a cat. Her hips swayed as she moved, and her forward momentum seemed to come from her pelvis rather than her chest or chin. She didn't even seem to be aware that this was so.

She fidgeted often with her hands, unless they were busy with something like food. He imagined she was very anxious, and he could understand why.

Merlin looked away again, composing his thoughts.

"What did you mean earlier?" she asked. Her eyes, a dark blue, started across the space between them with renewed interest. "What did you mean…about there not being a King Arthur yet?"

He had agreed to further the direction of this conversation, and he must see it through. He realized that this was bigger than him, and while his rational mind was screaming at him to be careful, another part of him knew it was best to proceed.

"I serve Prince Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther Pendragon." He said clearly. "He is not king yet."

Her eyes told him she was having a hard time with this one, as did her hands as they stopped fidgeting and froze clenched against one another on her knees.

"This is Camelot…" she said, gazing at him. "If that's true, then there is… _Gwenwhyfar_ (she said "Guinevere") and Sir Lancelot, and…" she put her hands to her head and looked down, stunned.

Merlin felt a thrill of excitement as he thought of what this meant. Was she from the future?

"You think this isn't real and that you're mad," he said to her, his blue eyes burning. "But you couldn't be more wrong. You are in Camelot, and all of the people you named are _real_."


End file.
